


I'm Sorry

by PsychicDynamite



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Asra's Route, Gender Neutral Pronouns, OC, The Lazaret, The Red Plague, This is pure angst, didn't use any sort of specific names or pronouns, listen with your angst playlist, lots of feelings, so insert yourself to your heart's content, spoilers for book 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 13:09:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19442107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychicDynamite/pseuds/PsychicDynamite
Summary: Feeling your temper simmering, you tighten your fists. “If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. But I’m staying.”----Your last interaction with Asra before your unfortunate journey to the Lazaret.(Gender neutral)





	I'm Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just so sorry.

You feel fatigue seep into your bones as you stare into your scrawled notes by your cauldron, which hopefully holds the cure that Lucio is demanding.

“You should really get some sleep,” an equally tired voice gently suggests.

Turning from your spot on the floor, you stare at the doctor. “Yeah, and when’s the last time you got sleep, Julian?” you quip, the exhaustion making you more cheeky.

The man turned pink at the jab. “I’ve at least had some snoozes at my desk. Every time I look over here, you’re just working away.”

You sigh. Just thinking of sleeping feels amazing. But the lazily rolling bubbles from your potion brings your attention back.

“We can sleep after all this is over. We can at least wake up, unlike the dead,” you mutter grimly.

You hear the doctor sigh. “This isn’t a sprint to the finish line - I’m still not any closer to a cure than I was two days ago. We both need rest, otherwise we’ll burn out much too quickly.”

Frowning, you stare into your portable cauldron, wishing you could bring in the one from the shop. As the seconds creep by, the contents in the pot turn grey and an acrid smell fills your nose. Anger makes you see red. Another cure for the plague failed. You want to knock over the cauldron, and really, destroy the whole palace.

A knock on the door makes the both of you turn. “There’s a guest for you,” Nadia’s chamberlain says, nodding to you.

A guest? Brows scrunched in confusion, you get up to follow the chamberlain out.

They lead you to the garden, where you see familiar white curls in front of the fountain.

“Asra?”

The magician turns to face you. “There you are,” he breathes in relief.

You nod your thanks to the chamberlain before they run off. “What’s wrong? Finally accepting Lucio's summon to help with the plague?”

Eyes grim, he shakes his head. “The opposite, actually. Pack your things, we’re heading off soon.”

Confused and utterly exhausted, you take a step back in shock. “Pack? Heading off? Where?”

“Away - we’re leaving,” Asra says, as if it was obvious.

Dense silence fills the air between the two of you before you speak. “What…what are you talking about? I’ve been here working my ass off for this cure. I’m getting somewhere, I can feel it—“

Asra interrupted, crying your name. Shocked, you stop. “I’ve literally seen so many people collapse in the street. Half the shops on our street are closed. Even the baker has left for safety. He suggested we do the same, and I think he’s right.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. For as long as you knew Asra, you knew he was a wanderer. What started as small, day-long ventures turned into journeys that could last from a week to almost a month. You were lucky if you got a notice, and you usually had to pry it out of him. You knew he was one to run from his problems rather than face them. To be completely honest, it annoyed you, especially since he’s created a reputation for himself. Most days, you could brush it off, but there were a few times where you wanted to tear your hair out. When you saw him in front of the fountain, you were hopeful he was finally here to help you and Julian. But no, he was here to run again. Run off to who knows where. And who knows how long? What if Julian never found the cure? What if Vesuvia gets wiped out?

You’re so shocked and reeling in your own thoughts that you don’t hear Asra continue. “I can talk to Lucio if we bump into him, but it’s probably best to leave as soon as we can. Do you—“

“No.”

Asra looks as if you had just punched him. He even took half a step back.

“…What?” he whispers, not believing his ears.

“I’m not going. I’m staying to help.”

Shock turns to hurt in his eyes.

“Julian can’t work on this cure by himself, he needs help. And since you won’t, I will.”

Words finally return to him. “What are you talking about? If you’re worried about Julian, tell him to flee too. Hell, we can leave together. We just need to leave, please, please.”

“No, Asra. I’m not running. You said it yourself, the people of Vesuvia are collapsing in the street! Lucio’s had ridiculous decrees because of them. It’s honestly disgusting…but that’s all the more reason to stay!”

Asra tries to interrupt you. “No, that’s all the more reason to leave. I can’t bear to imagine seeing you in those circumstances—“

“Asra, if we run, who knows what could happen?! I need to stay to deal with your problem. I wasn’t even summoned to the Palace, it was you! But you refused to come, so I came, and now I’m doing the job that you’re supposed to do.”

“Because it’s ridiculous! You and I both know Lucio is just trying to cling onto life, he can’t accept the fact that he’s dying. You know he’s only ordered Julian and I to find a cure because he wants to live, not for Vesuvia!”

You clench your jaw. Asra wasn’t wrong…but so what? A cure for Lucio is a cure for the entire city. “You think we’ve been creating a cure just for Lucio? No, it’s for everyone, Asra.” Feeling your temper simmering, you tighten your fists. “If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. But I’m staying.”

Unbelievably, Asra grabbed your wrist. “No, we’re leaving together.”

You yanked your arm away. You’ve never seen him so…angry? Scared? You didn’t know. You’re so tired, you didn’t really want to know. But he never grabbed you so forcefully. In another time, you’d be hurt. But you felt your anger finally boiling. 

“I’m not just something you can drag around, Asra! I’m not leaving! Like I said, if you want to run, then get the hell out of here! Like you always do! But don’t you think just because you keep running from your problems that that means I will too. You’re not my master; I don’t have to listen to you!”

The fatigue suddenly returns to you. Feeling lightheaded, you turn so you didn’t have to face the consequences of your outburst. Without even a final goodbye, you leave to return to your potion.

~ ~ ~

The next day, you wake up after a fitful night’s sleep with a sore throat and a bit of a cough. You request tea with honey with your breakfast in your chambers. Last night, you remember nearly collapsing into Julian’s arms, who literally dragged you to sleep. Feeling drained from your fit of rage, you didn’t argue as you fell into bed, slipping into a dreamless sleep.

While the tea helps at first, the itchiness in your throat returns soon. You keep requesting tea, but the cough turns severe in a few days. But neither you or Julian think much of it, so focused on a cure. Lucio is all but constantly crawling on your back to find this cure, and even more agitated that Asra wasn’t here. Still hurt and angry with your argument with him, you use that anger to work even harder to find this damn cure.

Soon after, a fever emerges, leaving you bedridden in a couple of days.

Thinking those all-nighters finally caught up to you, you accept your time in bed. Looking out the window, you frown at the foggy morning outside. Mustering the energy to get up, you lean over your basin to wash your face. When you look up into the mirror, you scream.

~ ~ ~

When did your eyes become so heavy? And why were you soaked?

You try to lift your head, but burning pain and a harsh cough keeps you down. Why did you feel so weak? It took all your strength just to open your eyes.

You’re greeted by white cloth and wood. Then, the smell of the sea hits your nose. Gingerly turning your head, you see the person rowing the boat.

“Julian?” 

He was wearing his mask. Odd, he never wore that while the two of you were working. It was only when he saw sick patients.

When the doctor didn’t turn, you try calling a bit louder, despite your inflamed throat. “Julian, where are we?”

As if the world answers your question, you feel the boat halt to an abrupt stop. The sudden shock sending aches and pains all over you, you yelp when Julian yanks your arm to lift you up.

“Ow, Julian! That hurts, what are you--” but you’re cut off as you hack up saliva and...blood?

Wordlessly, the man tugs at you again, this time not waiting for a response, but instead walking onto the beach. Feeling waves of pain coursing through you, you moan as you’re forced to move.

“Ju...Julian...where are we going?” you feel like crying, you’re in so much pain.

Not able to walk straight, you concentrate on making your legs move, letting your head droop. One foot in front of the other…

Was...was this beach black?

Suddenly, you’re all too aware of your surroundings. Ash and smoke choke up your lungs, the air is filled with red, and in the distance, screams drowned out by machinery.

Oh no.

Gritting your teeth through the pain, you whip your head up to look at Julian properly. But...but it wasn’t Julian. Instead of his signature, unruly hair is slick, black hair. You then notice that he’s shorter than Julian.

Dread and more pain tumble in your stomach as this mysterious man leads you to the hellish building at the center of the Lazaret.

Before you know it, you’re thrusted into another pair of arms, which just push you into a single file line of pale, gaunt figures. You try to process everything, but you can’t think straight through your feverish delirium.

Suddenly you notice that you’re so close to the fiery pit. Feeling tears well up, you want to beg, scream, shout, do something. But you can only think to the one person you wish you could see, the one person who you wish could save you from all this. You taste bile in your mouth as you start to feel horribly sick, thinking back to your last interaction with him. Regret threatens to sweep you off your feet as you stare into the menacing glare of the fire. With the last of your strength, you say one thing before you feel a shove from behind.

“I’m sorry…”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! My requests are open if you'd like.


End file.
